


Scars From A Lioness

by Fangirlshrewt97



Series: Geralt Whump Week 2020 Fills [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: And so much softness, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cirilla is adopted by all the Witchers, Established Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Established Relationship, Family Bonding, Fluff, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, I wanted to write a fic where we get to see Cirilla learning stuff from the witchers, Kaer Morhen, M/M, Prompt: Potions, Soft Witchers, This fic is really cute I promise, Whump, more fluff than whump, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:06:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25035172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirlshrewt97/pseuds/Fangirlshrewt97
Summary: Ciri was up with the sun, bouncing with excitement for the day. Finally, after weeks of begging, Geralt had said she could learn how to make a Witcher potion.A.K.A: Ciri learns how to make potions, there is family bonding, and Geralt gets hurt but its ok, he gets better. Ciri feels awful though.Geralt Whump Week 2020 Day 2, Prompt: Potions
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Geralt Whump Week 2020 Fills [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1812871
Comments: 12
Kudos: 87





	Scars From A Lioness

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Reader,
> 
> Here is my day 2 submission for Geralt Whump Week 2020. This fic is more soft than whumpy, but I needed a fic of just Ciri bonding with the wolves at Kaer Morhen.  
> I really hope you like the story, and if you do please let me know through comments or kudos!
> 
> None of these characters belong to me, I am just temporarily borrowing them.

Ciri was up with the sun, bouncing with excitement for the day. Finally, after weeks of begging, Geralt had said she could learn how to make a Witcher potion. If Jaskier had been with them, Ciri was sure she could have gotten the Witcher to cave in sooner, but the bard had had a request to play at the Kaedwanian court, and having allies would only help them. Nilfgaard was still looking for her, which meant it had been nearing a year since she had arrived at Kaer Morhen and not left. She didn’t mind, she liked the castle, the ruins were a little scary but they also reminded her of Grandfather Eist’s bedtime stories of heroes and monsters. And if she behaved really well, Vesemir would tell her a story of one of his hunts that rivaled any of her grandfather’s stories.

Uncle Eskel and Lambert had also been helpful, teaching her all about fighting with a sword and hand-to-hand, though she thought they did that more as an excuse to tackle each other to the ground than to teach her anything. Ciri didn’t mind, it was fun to watch men the size of small mountains fling each other into walls like rag dolls and then get up and walk around as if that hadn’t just happened. They were never rough with her, but they also didn’t go easy, each day ended with more muscles aching than she knew she had. But the one thing that all four had been adamantly reluctant to budge on was Witcher potions. Or potions in general.

“It is too dangerous for you, Princess.” Uncle Eskel had explained.

“Those things could kill you Ciri, or give you a scar like knucklehead over there, and while his face might have been bad before the accident, yours is too pretty to risk damaging.” Lambert had advised before running out of the hall being chased by Eskel.

“Witcher potions are poisonous to humans Cirilla, and for many, the smoke alone is deadly. It is too great a risk.” Vesemir had stated with a finality to the discussion.

And of course, there was Geralt’s very eloquent “No.”

Ciri sighed. So many weeks of badgering, begging, and, even bartering for more chores had resulted in the reluctant agreement that all four Witchers would be in the room with her when she brewed the potion, Vesemir instructing and the other three as bodyguards to get her out of there is something started to go wrong. And that she would first start with human-friendly potions to understand the basics of brewing. Three Witchers seemed excessive for said job but they wouldn’t be dissuaded.

Ciri took off her clothes, using the nearby cloth to dip into the basin of water in her room and ran it across her body, wiping off the nightly sweat. All four had mentioned that potions were brewed beneath the keep, and it could get really hot in there, so it was better to soak in the hot springs after. Washing herself thoroughly, Ciri put on an old shirt of Uncle Lambert’s and the pants Uncle Eskel had sewn for her. She was plaiting her hair in a simple braid as she made her way down to the breakfast hall, finishing it right as she arrived.

The others were already there, Uncle Eskel and Grandfather Vesemir finishing with toasting the bread as Geralt and Lambert were eating. Skipping down to the area where they were sitting, she pressed a kiss to Geralt’s cheek before burrowing herself into Uncle Eskel’s side, an arm around his waist to steady herself.

“Morning cub, excited for the lesson are we?” Eskel said, amusement making his eyes twinkle. Ciri giggled and nodded her head.

“Well then Eskel, you better give the girl her food so we may all head down together. Don’t you think, cub?” Vesemir winked as he presented her a small bowl filled with dried fruits. Making a happy noise, Ciri took the offerings and gave her pseudo-grandfather a hug before going and settling next to Lambert. The youngest wolf just opened his arm so she could press herself into his side before starting to munch on her breakfast. All of them had learned early on the lion cub loved to cuddle, and while it had taken a bit to get used to so much physical affection, they had learned to treasure it.

Ciri was focused on her food and so completely missed the fond looks all four wolves sent her way.

Having spent decades being rejected and treated as beasts, here was this girl who through Destiny had found herself tied to a Witcher, and decided to embrace them all as her family. She had all of them wrapped around her little finger, ready to draw steel or silver at the slightest hint of sadness from the child. She had been afraid when she had arrived at the keep near the beginning of winter, escorted between Geralt and Jaskier. But it had only taken one extremely inappropriate joke from Lambert that all the others yelled at him for, for Ciri to giggle and relax. After that, it had been pathetically simple to see that these men were not the monsters everyone was convinced they were.

Eskel and Vesemir finished with the food and brought the rest of it to the table, Eskel sitting next to Geralt while Vesemir settled at the head of the table. The small family enjoyed the breakfast in silence, basking in the simple instance of each other’s company.

“Careful pup, you look ready to fall into your plate.” Geralt said as he gently nudged her leg with his. Ciri shook her head, a strand of hair coming loose.

“’M not.” Ciri said, punctuating it with a contradictory yawn.

Eskel and Vesemir smiled, whereas Lambert laughed.

“Sure about that menace?”

Ciri elbowed him in his side, turning her nose up in the perfect imitation of the obnoxious princess she had played so many times in court when dealing with insufferable nobles.

This got the other three to chuckle, and when Ciri peeked one eye open from where she had them closed, she saw even Geralt had a smile on his face, making her own grin grow.

“Vesemir she is abusing me.” Lambert complained, deadpan.

Eskel snorted. “That isn’t her abusing you. Her abusing you is her managing to throw a Witcher four times her age and size straight into the pile of hay for the horses. In one day.”

As they all laughed at Lambert’s indignation, Ciri settled contently into her food, joining in to the teasing. Uncle Lambert was so very easy to tease. And Ciri always had at least one person to back her up in case he turned on her.

Finishing up breakfast and cleaning up was a quick job between the five of them, and soon they were all headed to the potion making room. When they entered, they let Ciri go in first, giving her time to explore the space she hadn’t been allowed in before as they each settled into their seats.

The room was larger than she expected, twice the size of her bedroom, but with a low roof that Geralt and Eskel nearly brushed against. There were small windows running all along the walls, which when she looked closer realized functioned as vents to make sure the smoke did not fill the room. But since they had yet to start brewing, the room was cold, and she wrapped her arms around her self.

Moving from the windows, Ciri next went through the largest wall of the room, which had deep shelves carved into it, pulling out bottles of ingredients lining the walls. Some had fresh labels, the ones that were commonly used. For others, the labels were faded and the bottles covered in what seemed like a decade’s worth of dust. She was able to identify most of the herbs, remembered helping Vesemir sort them and place them into these very bottles. The last bottle she grabbed was murky, and when she rubbed at some of the grime, she nearly dropped it in shock when she saw an eyeball floating in there. The bottle escaped her grasp, her sharp gasp alerting the Witchers. Geralt was behind her in an instant, catching the bottle in his hand, his other a solid weight on her shoulder.

“Don’t worry, they’re from deer.”

“I don’t know whether to be relieved for that answer or horrified you thought I thought you were using human eyeballs.” Ciri said, injecting as much bravado into her words as possible.

Geralt replaced the bottle in its original place and led her to the benches. Eskel and Lambert were on the side benches, and Ciri saw that Vesemir had set out two stations in the center tables. Geralt guided her to her station and then sat next to her. At her questioning glance, he just shook his head. Shrugging, Ciri looked to Vesemir. The eldest Witcher smiled at her and set about explaining the different equipment in front of her, as well as the ingredients he had set out in front of her.

The day passed like that, Vesemir talking her through the compositions of some of the basic potions all Witchers always needed to have in stock, Lambert and Eskel piping in with practical observations from how they made potions on the road. Geralt took her through the potions of cutting up the ingredients and measuring them, and the five of them ended the day satisfied, a fresh batch of Swallow made between them.

The small group was happy with their day, and chatted as they made their way to the hot springs. Since Ciri, and sometimes Yennefer, had taken residence at Kaer Morhen, the wolves had put up a make shift cover of sorts to grant them some privacy.

Ciri personally loved the hot springs. She had never had anything like this in Cintra, and it still felt like magic to her. The warm waters felt like they unknotted muscles she didn’t realize she had knots in, and it was absolutely divine after a sword training session. She hummed happily as she sunk into the waters, leaning against the edge of the pool as she allowed her body to half float.

“Lion cub, wash up quickly, I don’t want to have to rescue a raisin from the spring.” Geralt called from the other side of the curtain. The other wolves were also being uncharacteristically quiet. But then again she could only recall one other instance when all of them had entered the spring at the same time.

“Ok Geralt!” Ciri replied before getting up and reaching for the soap, scrubbing herself down quickly. Another submersion and Ciri shook out her hair from her braid, washing it quickly. Picking up the towel someone had laid out for her, she wrapped it around herself and walked to the small box she had kept in here to store clothes for moments like this. Removing a pair of soft pants and an old shirt of Geralt’s they had modified for her size, Ciri dried herself and changed into the clothes.

The rest of the day passed quickly, a big lunch and a small break where Vesemir took her to the library and gave her lessons of maths and geography. Geralt came to collect her after two hours and the two made their way to the courtyard where Eskel and Lambert were waiting for her. The four of them practiced for an hour, then Ciri was allowed to just sit back and watch as the wolves sparred with each other, no holds barred. She always liked seeing them fight with their full abilities, it was a nice reminder of just who was guarding her. Dinner was a rambunctious affair as always, and all too soon it was time for bed. Ciri barely removed her pants and laid in bed before she was out like a light, satisfaction coursing through her.

///

The week passed in a similar manner, with a quick breakfast, a potions lesson with all the wolves, covering a mix of human and Witcher potions, training sessions with swords and hand to hand combat, and ending with a lovely dinner Geralt and Ciri prepared for the others.

That morning, Ciri woke up feeling jittery again, but she couldn’t remember why until she got to the dining hall and saw a familiar emerald-colored doublet.

“Jaskier!” she cried out, running towards the bard who stood up and caught her, swinging her around as she shrieked with glee.

“Ciri! Apple of my eye, lion cub of my heart, how are you doing?” Jaskier asked as he guided them both to sit at the bench.

“Jask, I’ve learned so much! Uncle Lambert showed me this cool trick where I kick off the wall and use that to kick at someone’s head with the other leg, and Uncle Eskel showed me a way to build a trap that will make sure that whatever gets stuck in it can only be released when I open it, and Grandfather Vesemir has been teaching me potions!”

Jaskier’s eye had been steadily twitching throughout the tirade, a mental laundry list of all the things he needed to scold the Witchers for considering appropriate to teach a child, but the potions thing gave him pause. Geralt had long refused to teach him the most basic Witcher potions, positing that it was too dangerous. Then again, there was no safer place to try out a potion than under the watchful eyes of four Witchers.

The lecture Jaskier was preparing was already lasting over half an hour in his mind though.

///

As promised, Ciri convinced the others to let Jaskier sit in on the potions lesson, with Jaskier sitting behind Eskel. The Wolves reluctantly agreed but then proceeded to unanimously boot him out of the room after one hour where his scent kept spiking with so much anxiety every time Ciri used her knife to cut an ingredient. It was setting all the Witchers on edge and so they collectively pushed Jaskier out of the room and slammed the door in his face claiming “You are more likely to cause an accident than she is.” Jaskier had huffed but let them be, retreating to his room, resigned to hearing about what his adopted daughter had learned from her daily recap.

///

Another week passed in a similar manner, and Ciri got used to the routine, the potions lessons becoming her favorite. But still, there was a war going on outside the mountains the Keep was hidden in, and Winter had been thankfully mild this year relatively speaking, so the pass down the mountain had reopened much earlier than usual. Lambert had also noticed a pair of griffins mating nearby, which could pose a problem if they decided to nest, so Vesemir had split them up.

He instructed Lambert to go deal with the griffins while he and Eskel ventured to the nearest town to restock their food stores. Jaskier had argued that Geralt should accompany Lambert on the hunt, but all four Witchers had been adamant of not leaving them alone in the keep.

The next day, the three Witchers departed early in the morning, hoping to return by night fall the next day, or the following day’s morning at the latest. Ciri, Jaskier, and Geralt bid them farewell, the two humans huddled in extra blankets and cloaks that nevertheless did nothing to stop the blast of cold wind that seemed to cut right through the fabric and settled in their bones. Geralt had herded them to bed, allowing them a few extra hours of rest, and a relaxing day to laze about the keep. After weeks of rigorous labour and lessons and chores, both Ciri and Jaskier had promptly returned to bed and slept until Geralt woke them up for lunch.

They passed the day in a similar manner, with Jaskier playing a new song he had been composing while Geralt taught Ciri how to play Gwent.

"Geralt can we have another potions lesson tomorrow?” Ciri asked as they packed the deck away.

“It will only take the others a day to get back cub, have patience.”

“But you all have been telling me I’ve been doing a really good job. Come on, a simple one. You will still be there with me. Please?” Ciri asked, deploying her puppy eyes.

“Oof, low blow Princess.” she heard Jaskier mutter from where he was sitting on the furs in front of the fire.

Geralt’s face was twisted the way it always was when he was conflicted, so Ciri gave it one last push. “Please Ger?” she whined. With a pout.

Hook, line, and sinker. The Witcher folded like a hut made of paper. “Fine, but a simple one. And you listen to me. Every word.”

Ciri nodded her head so hard Jaskier feared it would come rolling off. She grinned bright enough to rival the fire he was sitting in front of and leaped from her seat to hug Geralt tightly around his neck while singing a chorus of ‘Thank you’s. She merrily skipped out of the room. Jaskier was nice enough to wait for her to be out of earshot before he mentioned how pathetically easily it was for a thirteen year old girl to defeat the White Wolf.

Geralt gave him a look that conveyed all the curse words he wanted to say. Jaskier laughed.

///

Geralt was nervous, but he could never let it show. It was just a simple potion, what could go wrong?

///

The potions room felt larger with just Geralt and Ciri in it, the absence of the others obvious and heavy in the air. Shaking off the slight unease, Geralt prepped his and Ciri’s stations as he had seen Vesemir do so.

The lesson started and everything was going well.

And it continued to go well.

They successfully brewed the potion.

Ciri was not the only one who felt as if she had accomplished something after the lesson.

///

Geralt brought up the following day’s lesson on his own, to Ciri’s delight. Jaskier shook his head at the two of them, but let them be.

“Can we try a new potion today Geralt?”

“No.”

“Please.”

“Ciri. I am still not sure if it is ok for us to be doing potions on our own anyways. Let’s stick with what you already know?”

“But we’ve been doing the same potions for weeks. Just one new potion? Please?” Ciri asked, employing her best pout and puppy eyes.

Geralt growled. One of these days he would build an immunity to them. Today was not that day.

“Fine. But you-”

“-listen to your every word and letter. I know, thank you Geralt, you are the best!” Ciri said as she cheered, pressing a kiss to Geralt’s cheek before skipping to her room.

“Fuck.”

“You are woefully defenseless against her.”

“Fuck off bard.”

Jaskier continued to laugh at his torment. What else was new.

///

It had been going well. Ciri had behaved just as she promised, she had diligently listened to his every instruction and done only that. He wasn’t sure if he had gone wrong in his teaching, or if he hadn’t checked the ingredients properly, but he heard a crackling sound. One that didn’t belong. His body reacted before his mind could think it through, and he pushed Ciri to the ground, covering her with his body as the potion started to fizzle and shoot boiling hot droplets all over the room. Having forgone his armor when he wasn’t doing sword training, his tunic was quickly destroyed by the potion, which burned itself into his skin.

Geralt clenched his teeth as more and more of the potion exploded from the table, landing on his skin and causing a sensation of being branded. Below him Ciri was distressed, trying to push him off, screaming his name, and when he didn’t budge, Jaskier’s.

Geralt couldn’t tell how much time had passed before the fizzling finally stopped, but he came to when multiple moments passed by with no new burned patches of skin appeared. The room was filled with the overwhelming scent of fear and burned skin, and underneath it, a faint smell of sulphur and charcoal clung heavy in the air. He stayed crouched over Ciri.

“lt! Geralt! Please, Geralt!” Ciri’s cries finally penetrated through his haze, and he looked down to meet tear-filled blue eyes, and a blotched face. Ciri’s voice was hoarse, as if she had been screaming for some time.

“Ci-ri?” Geralt grunted before collapsing onto his side so as to not crush her.

“Geralt? Geralt! Wake up, wake up, wake up, Geralt, please!” Ciri screamed, panic racing through her veins as a primal fear gripped her. She could feel her power swirling like a storm inside her, begging to be let out, the lump in her throat their only obstacle.

“lt? Ciri? Oh Melitele, what?” suddenly two strong arms came around her, lifting her. She screamed and clawed at the grip, but they held true.

She finally quietened when she saw Vesemir enter her field of vision, passing her to crouch by Geralt. “Cub, it’s me, stop fighting, it’s just me.” Ciri went limp once she realized she was being held in Uncle Eskel’s arms.

///

Geralt recalled collapsing, hearing Vesemir and Eskel and Jaskier come in, hearing Ciri screaming out for him. But the world was underwater, or maybe he was, but suddenly Vesemir was right there and he waved his hand in front of him, and all he knew was sleep.

///

“Damn it, Jaskier get it here!” Vesemir called out as Geralt succumbed to his Axii. The bard rushed in, a look of fear clearly painted on his face.

“Can you carry Ciri?”

Jaskier nodded.

“Eskel give him the pup, we need to get Geralt up to the infirmary.”

“Yes Vesemir” Eskel said, passing on the girl to Jaskier, who took her in a bridal carry, and stood aside to let Eskel and Vesemir lift Geralt and carried him out. He followed as far as the infirmary before Vesemir shot him a pointed glare. He nodded and took Ciri back to her room. Once she was in bed, he let some of the panic he felt come in.

Fuck, he had been in the dining area, working in a new song when Eskel and Vesemir had arrived. They had been discussing their purchases when both Witchers stiffened simultaneously and took off out of the room, taking the stairs two at a time.

He had only heard Ciri’s screams when he reached the floor where the potions room was. It made him want to vomit. Or tear off his skin.

And Geralt, fuck, Geralt had been steaming, literal tendrils of smoke rising from him. His Witcher had too much tolerance to ever express his pain, but his gaze had been unfocused, and in some ways that scared him the most. Geralt rarely succumbed to pain so easily.

///

Geralt woke up to even more burning. He jerked, trying to get away from it, only to realize he had been shackled to the slab he was lying on. A strong pair of arms landed on his shoulders, holding his down.

“-alt, relax, you are alright. It’s us, come on.” Eskel’s urgent voice broke through the fog.

The sound of his brother was enough to calm Geralt, and the man collapsed on the slab. Vesemir appeared in his field of vision when he opened his eyes. “We will discuss what has happened when you are more coherent. Right now I am going to place a burn salve, let me know if it helps our worsens the pain.”

Geralt nodded, clenching his jaw to brace for the pain.

Vesemir’s touch made him jerk, but the eldest Witcher had an iron grip on his thigh. The salve to the burn on his ankle was mercifully cooling, and Geralt hissed in relief. “Itsss niceeeeee.”

“Hmmm.” Vesemir said as he internally sighed in relief. He had Eskel shift to hold different parts of Geralt as he applied the salve.

The worst of the burns had been to Geralt’s back, his arms and ankles receiving some long but superficial burns, where the acid had hit the skin but slid off. They turned him on his back, wincing in sympathy as they saw burn marks all over his back starting from just below his neck to the edge of his pants’ waistband.

Geralt fell asleep at some point while they were rubbing the salve, so they left him sleeping, wrapping bandages across the worst of the burns. Most wouldn’t scar, although a couple in his back had been severe, the flesh wrinkling and black.

Vesemir hummed. “Scars from a lioness. These are scars he can be proud of.”

Time to get the bard.

///

Lambert had returned to a seemingly empty keep, and when he went searching, he heard humming from the cub’s room, so he followed Jaskier’s voice.

Inside, Jaskier was listlessly strumming his lute. Ciri was sleeping, which worried Lambert, it was the middle of the day, why was she asleep. When Jaskier turned to see him, the worry only increased ten fold at the sight of a hunted look in his eyes.

“What’s wrong Jaskier?”

///

When next Ciri woke up, she groaned as her head gave a painful throb.

“At last, the sleeping lioness wakes up.” Uncle Lambert declared as he peered over her, face looming.

“Uncle Lambert?”

“One and only pup. Can you sit up?”

Ciri nodded, so Lambert place this hands beneath her armpits and helped her up until she was sitting up against the headboard. Her headboard. She was in her room, in her bed.

“What happened?” and then as memories fluttered in, “Where’s Geralt?”

The panic was immediate and overpowering, making her scramble to get out of bed, stopped only by Lambert using all his power to keep her there. “Slow down, pup, Geralt will be fine. He is being taken care of. As for what happened, that’s what we are all wondering. Care to explain?”

“First tell me where Geralt is.”

“You’re not in a position to negotiate pup.”

Ciri slumped back. Unconsciously, she started to chew on her bottom lip. “I asked Geralt to teach me a new potion today.”

Lambert sighed, rubbing his face with one hand as the other came to weave into one of hers. “Pup, I can’t believe you’re making me be an adult right now. There is a reason we told you we’d only teach you potions when we were all together.”

Ciri started crying, first a few tears, and then the sobs, and then her whole body trembling like it was trying to shake itself apart.

Lambert freaked out for a minute before pulling Ciri to him, and holding her as she clutched him too tightly.

Her sobs had slowed down to hiccuping sniffles when the door to the bedroom opened again, letting in a weary Jaskier who seemed to wear every year of his life for once. He tried to put on a smile at the sight of Ciri awake, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Darling! You are awake.”

“Jask…” was as far as Ciri got before she started blubbering again. Jaskier indicated for Lambert to switch places with him, and smoothly brought Ciri into his embrace, soothing her with practiced ease. The youngest Witcher slipped out of the room when Jaskier started to hum an old Cintran lullaby.

///

Ciri was clutching Jaskier’s doublet, walking behind him, body a coil of anxiety so strong, even Jaskier could smell it.

They stopped before Geralt’s bedroom, with Jaskier turning and going to his knees so he could look Ciri in the eyes.

“Darling, I promise you Geralt is not angry with you alright. But if you keep being so scared you will scare him too. Now you don’t want that right?”

Ciri shook her head. Jaskier smiled, rubbing his thumb against her cheek until she giggled once. Chuckling, he pressed a kiss to her other cheek before standing up. Holding out his hand for her to take, Jaskier knocked on the door. Eskel opened the door, amusement coloring his face.

“My good Witcher, Princess Cirilla and I are here to visit our most beloved White Wolf, if you would so graciously grant us admission.”

“Hmm, I don’t know, the wolf is feeling hungry, and I’m afraid peacocks don’t agree with him.”

Jaskier squawked, making Ciri giggle at their antics. When Uncle Eskel shifted to play more into his role of ‘sentry’, Ciri saw Geralt laying on the bed, looking even more entertained by their actions.

He caught her looking though, and a playful smirk appeared on his otherwise tired appearance, and he beckoned her with one finger.

Smiling softly, Ciri slipped from Jaskier’s grasp and went to Geralt’s side. Lambert and Vesemir were sitting on either side of the Witcher, and Lambert helped her up to sit by Geralt’s side. As soon as she was within touching distance she flung herself at Geralt, hugging him tightly and burying her face into his neck. Geralt hummed, the vibrations alleviating any lingering anxiety Ciri had had.

“My pup, are you alright?”

Ciri sniffled. She pulled back and wiped her eyes as tears gathered there. When she spoke, there was a wobble in her voice. “I’m sorry.”

Geralt brushed a few strands of her hair back. “For what?”

“For hurting you.”

Geralt huffed. “Ciri, look at me, it is going to take more than a single errant potion to hurt me.”

“But you are covered in bandages!” And that was true, Geralt’s entire chest and back, and most of his arms were wrapped in white linen bandages.

“That is mostly due to Jaskier being an overprotective mother hen. I actually only need about half of these according to Eskel and Vesemir.”

“Hey! Not fair.” Jaskier said as he approached them, an utterly fake offended out on his face as he sat by Geralt’s unoccupied side.

Ignoring him, Geralt looked back at his daughter. “I promise I am all right.”

“I gave you new scars.”

“I’ll wear these ones with pride.”

When Ciri looked at him confused, Geralt gave her a wolfish grin. “I earned these protecting my child.”

Ciri blushed before nestling into Geralt’s side.

“Now little pup, I have something I want to say too.” Came Vesemir’s voice, making Ciri wince. Slowly, she pushed away from Geralt and sat straight, looked at her pseudo-grandfather from down turned eyes.

The old Witcher was standing next to Jaskier, one hand on his hip. “I hope you learned your lesson on why we didn’t want to teach you potions alone?”

Ciri nodded her head as hard as she could. “I am so so so sorry Vesemir. Please don’t blame Geralt, it was my fault. I only suggested we continue-” She stopped when Vesemir held up his hand.

“Child, while it was unwise of you both to continue to do these lessons alone, I fear I am also to blame for this incident.”

At that Ciri exchanged a bewildered look with Geralt before both looked at him.

“What are you talking about Vesemir?” Geralt asked.

Vesemir sighed. The potion, you grabbed the mountain ash for it right?”

Ciri nodded. “Yes! Geralt told me which one, and I found the bottle labelled mountain ash.”

Vesemir grimaced before schooling his features. “And I assume you did not to think to check the bottle Geralt?”

Geralt shook his head. “It was labeled with your handwriting. It was kind of faded, but it definitely said mountain ash.”

“And there in lies my mistake. I apologize to both of you. We actually ran out of mountain ash last season, and I kept meaning to get more to restock our supply. The particular bottle that Ciri grabbed did not contain ash at all, I simply made the error of putting it in the wrong bottle.”

“What was in it then?”

“Black-powder. It was used mainly by the School of the Crane. Apparently when used in the correct mix it can be used as an explosive.”

“I’ve never heard of such a powder before.” Jaskier spoke.

“It is not common in our lands, though I think you can find it in Zerrikania and further East.”

The group descended into a moment of quiet.

“I don’t want to do any more potions.”

Geralt sighed. He wasn’t surprised by her new fear.

Eskel tried to argue with her, “Ciri, you cannot let one accident turn you away from them completely. There are many potions we can teach that are usable to humans as well.”

But Ciri shook her head, her mind made up.

Geralt indicated for his brothers to quiet, and tugged at Ciri. “Cub look at me.” He waited until her gaze was focused on him, “I know you were scared when the accident happened, but as Vesemir just explained, it was only an accident that was entirely not your fault. I should have gone over your ingredients too, so I am to blame as well. What do you say once I recovered, we resume the lessons, this time with all five of us?”

Ciri chewed on her lip as she thought before giving a tentative nod.

Geralt smiled at her. “That’s my pup.”

Ciri grinned back and burrowed herself into his side, throwing her arm around Geralt’s waist.

“I am not leaving your side until you get better.”

“Impractical, but I will be alright by tomorrow, so I suppose I can allow such a concession.” Geralt teased her.

“How come Vesemir never gave me concessions when I got hurt?” Lambert wondered aloud.

“Because when you got yourself hurt, it was absolutely your own damn fault.” Vesemir replied.

Everyone laughed, the comment serving to break any remaining tension.

The small family settled comfortably around the room and spent the night talking. Lambert took great joy sharing an embellished story regarding his griffin hunt, with the other three Witchers mercilessly calling him out on his exaggerations. Jaskier added fuel to all their arguments, egging them on. And Ciri?

Well Ciri laughed until her stomach hurt, happy once again at her Geralt’s side. And as she listened to Lambert argue that the griffin truly had a head the size of Lambert’s whole body, she settled into a deep sleep at her father’s side, a wide smile colouring her face.

**Author's Note:**

> *Black Powder = Gunpowder. Before the advent of guns, it was called black powder because it was black, and it was a powder. 
> 
> Please let me know what you thought of the story!   
> If you want to chat, you can find me at fangirlshrewt97.tumblr.com!


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